genuine. I excited him. My career trajectory—it motivated him.
“What do you talk about? Me?” he queried, making me narrow my eyes at him.
“Yes, Adam, because the world revolves around you. I mean, I don’t have anything I could possibly talk about with your father who helped me get into Stanford, who sponsors me, is helping with the business side of my career, and who might possibly be interested in the fact that I’ve done well enough to attend the Olympics.” I released a mock gasp. “Yeah, we actually do manage to have conversations without you as a major topic, but he’s proud of you, of what you’ve achieved without his backing, and he talks about you.”
“And you don’t ask?”
“No, I’m not a glutton for punishment,” I rejoined stonily, staring straight ahead at some kind of statue that, according to the sign, was supposed to represent solidarity and sportsmanship.
I just saw a crown of fish.
But then, I’d never had the best imagination.
“I ask about you,” he replied softly, making my heart stutter.
“Why?” The question was a valid one, and I was proud of my voice which didn’t indicate how much the thought of him talking about me with his dad hurt.
“I’m interested.”
Interested… right.
You were interested in a new TV show or a hot new band, not someone you’d once claimed was the love of your goddamn life.
“You have my number now,” I bit off. “You could ask me yourself.”
It had been months since I’d last seen him. Weeks since we’d last spoken too.
For a few years, I’d withheld my number from him, unable to deal with the distance I was placing between us, then I’d caved in and given it to him.
He’d never used it.
Sometimes, I wasn’t sure whether that was blessing or a curse.
“You’re not the easiest person to talk to.”
I stumbled to a halt at that as pain speared me straight in the stomach. “Wow.” I gulped. “You know how to kick a woman when she’s anything but down.”
He frowned at me, just realizing that I’d stopped a few steps back. He turned, fully, frowned harder, and muttered, “Thea, there’s shit about me you know that no one else does. That’s hard to live with.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“No, but it doesn’t make it easy for me to talk to you.”
“Why? That’s all in the past now, isn’t it?” I demanded, uncertain why I was pushing this when I was the one who had put distance between us in the first place. But—and it was a huge but—the distance was for our safety. His bullshit? Wasn’t.
He shrugged. “The past affects our present. Don’t tell me you want to talk to me when you avoid me more than I avoid you.”
My eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who ruined our present.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I regret all my mistakes? Don’t you think when I hear your fucking name, I’m reminded of what a fuck up I am?”
That hurt.
A lot.
I was more to him than just a representation of his mistakes, and he knew it, but that he’d used that as a bullshit excuse was like a knife to the gut.
I stormed past him, not waiting when he shouted my name, not letting him catch up to me either. I wasn’t fast only in the pool, and though Adam was stacked and at the peak of his own health, he wasn’t as quick as me.
Making it to Robert and Anna before he did, I shot them a blinding white smile that was so beyond false, it was a wonder my face didn’t crack from the lie.
But, content with what they’d just seen me achieve, they were busy talking about stats and the next few days of my Olympic journey.
Maybe it was wise that Adam stood beside his mom while I was at Robert’s side, but it still stung.
All of this stung.
When we made it to the car, Anna let me sit in the front because she knew I got car sick in the back, and I was glad, glad because Robert was driving, and that meant I didn’t have to sit next to Adam.
I wasn’t sure if he could have hurt me more. Thinking something and having suspicions about it was painful, but hearing that was the case straight from the horse’s mouth? Twice as painful.
But I was used to that, used to him hurting me, and while that made me sound like a victim, I wasn’t. I was anything but, neither was I a fool. So I